Toronya
by erunyauve
Summary: (Dear Brother). One-shot conversation between Maedhros and Curufin before Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Complete.


Author's Note: 5/28 - removed hand inadvertently regenerated by Maedhros (oops) & made a few minor edits. This germinated while I was researching the ruin of Doriath, and as my muse has been on vacation, it made me feel productive. Incidentally, one should never research the sons of Fëanor when one is writing a story sympathetic to the Sindar. _Rhach erin-Ngolodhrim!_   
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Tolkien, even the dog. Translations of Elvish (aka mangled Quenya) and additional notes are at the end of the story.   
  


**Toronya**

  
  
Once, he had not been mad. Once, he had a wife and a son. He had valued them above any jewel. Once, when he had not been mad.   
  
"Do you sleep at night, Curufin? Does your conscience haunt your dreamscapes?"   
  
"If I am restless it is due to our oath we yet fail to fulfill."   
  
Maedhros laughed then. "You come to me, having been pursued by Celegorm's own hound, driven out of Nargothrond, seeking shelter like beggar and thief, and still you speak of the oath."   
  
"Thief? Better to apply such a word to that impudent mortal." Anger twisted the deceptively beautiful features.   
  
"That impudent mortal dared what we feared to do, _toronincenya_." The tone of Maedhros' voice twisted the endearment to sarcasm. "What part of the oath were you and Celegorm fulfilling when you betrayed our cousin and usurped his brother-son's throne? You came to him in need, and having long put aside our faithlessness at Losgar, he opened his halls to you, and small gratitude did you show him and his heir."   
  
"Finarfin's brood, and Turgon, seek only to hide from Morgoth," Curufin answered with a contemptuous toss of his head. "They are no better than the Moriquendi**, who vilify us while keeping what belongs to us."   
  
"And yet Celegorm would keep what belongs to Doriath. It is a sad state that our fair brother must bring maids to his bed by force."   
  
"Only that in alliance we should recover the Silmaril peacefully."   
  
Maedhros looked at his brother incredulously. "Do not weave such words for me, Curufinwë. You forget that I know you, and Celegorm, too well. Craven desire kept Lúthien prisoner, and craven desire of those cursed jewels induces such actions as would shame the lowest of curs.   
  
"Do you not see how you have fallen? You, the warrior, will shoot another in the back," he continued, his voice rising as his own temper became his master. "You think more of bringing arms against our kindred than against Angband. We may have our greatest chance to bring the enemy down and retrieve the jewels he yet possesses. Thanks to your treachery, I can hardly put together an alliance, for elves trust orcs more than they do our father's seed. Orcs, you see, wear their malice on their sleeve. Thingol may well hope for our destruction at the hands of Morgoth."   
  
"Thingol must hope that we are routed by Morgoth, for we shall indeed turn against him when it is over. We are bound to pursue any that would keep our father's Silmarilli from us. I should not need to remind you of this, _toronya_. And if I fall in the coming battle, you will press the oath upon my son."   
  
Maedhros sighed, running his hand through his coppery locks. His brothers no longer were capable of any but one single-minded thought. He and Maglor remained sane only in comparison to their younger siblings. "I shall leave your son out of this, for he wishes to have nothing to do with you. Perhaps the son shall escape the legacy of the father, Atarincë**."   
  
Curufin fell silent; Maedhros thought he had touched a nerve. "Tell me, Maedhros, do you sleep at night?"   
  
"No, my brother, I do not sleep at night. I, too, have fallen." The elf turned away, disturbed by the satisfied smirk on Curufin's face. "But you will hear nothing but your own madness; I waste my breath. Hear this, if nothing else. All shall be lost the day we come against our kindred again in bloodshed."   
  


* * *

  
* _Rhach erin-Ngolodhrim!_   

    A curse on the Noldor! (Sindarin)   

* _toronincenya_   

    my little brother (Quenya) I've probably mangled the case endings quite badly.   

** Moriquendi   

    'Moriquendi' was insulting to the Sindar, according to The War of the Jewels, 'Quendi and Eldar', as it implied superiority of the Calaquendi and, more grievously, grouped the Sindar with the Nandor and Avari.   

* _toronya_   

    dear brother (Quenya)   

** Atarincë or Atarinkë   

    Mother-name of Curufin, meaning 'Little Father', in reference to his similarity in temperament and appearance to his father (ref. The Peoples of Middle-Earth, 'The Shibboleth of Fëanor'). There is also an interesting note stating that Curufin was friendly with the dwarves and attempted to learn their language, though Caranthir is more often associated with dwarves. Still, this would presage the partnership of Khazad-dûm and Eregion under Celebrimbor. In the same book, under 'Late Writings - Of Dwarves and Men', we are told that Curufin's wife refused to leave Aman with him.   



End file.
